


Prompt : "Confusion" and/or "tent".

by BiancaIcaras



Series: Fandot Creativity Night April 25th 2015 [1]
Category: John Finnemore's Souvenir Programme
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 18:05:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 324
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3819856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiancaIcaras/pseuds/BiancaIcaras





	Prompt : "Confusion" and/or "tent".

The Driver wasn't a very outdoorsy person. Well, he wasn't one full stop. He liked living in the city, in a normal house, and to go on vacation in another normal house. Or at least a hotel or something solid. Not in something that needed construction before being able to stay in it, thank you very much. So how in world's way he managed to be on a grassy field, with the instructions and next to his Manager who was trying to fix up their tent for the weekend, he had no idea. 

“Well? What does it say next?” came the Manager's muffled voice from under the pile of brightly coloured fabric. The Driver looked at the piece of paper in his hand. He had no clue what was next, since the last instruction he had given was about 30 minutes ago. And he'd zoned out the yelling and yelping from the Manager, who had seemed to have managed to get himself stuck in some pieces of the horrible thing. 

“No idea love. You come and have a look at it” he said, defeated by the manual. “I can't! I'm... stuck.” the Manager said quietly. The Driver giggled for a bit, and then said: “Hang on, I'll go and ask the man at the front desk to give us a hand. Be right back!” 

He turned around, ignoring the protests from the Manager. His pride would take a bit of a beating, but they would need to have some kind of shelter for the night. So he went and found someone to help. Half an hour later they were sitting in a couple of folding chairs that were a size too small for them, roasting marshmellows over a tiny fire. The Driver sighed. It might have been really confusing, and he still hated tents, but he wouldn't trade being here with his very own, very silly, very lovely Manager for anything in the world.


End file.
